


missing you is a slow burn

by peeks



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 17:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11787612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peeks/pseuds/peeks
Summary: “What wouldn’t have worked out?” Jonny asks, matching Patrick’s tone of voice, pointed and quick.“Us getting married,” Patrick answers, bluntly. The tension in the room thickens around him after he says it and deep down, he knows he’s wrong - the two of them would’ve worked so well, but Jonny’s not giving him any other option than to be furious.





	missing you is a slow burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emmared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmared/gifts).



> this is for emma, who wrote a fic for me forever ago and this is my way of giving back
> 
> set in the 2017-18 season because sharpy and saader are back and it is totally okay to add them to fic now. sweet. as for how real the schedule for games/practices is, it’s pretty much all made up.
> 
> big thanks to [rightnow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rightnow/pseuds/rightnow) for being the best beta, cheerleader, and all around good friend to bounce ideas off of. the nico cameo is also added in there for her benefit. thank you, love you.

Patrick has heard of getting cold feet before a wedding.

He’d never thought he would experience it so early, let alone get married while still hanging up a Blackhawks jersey every night, but he’s pretty sure that’s what he’s experiencing when Jonny comes up to him with wedding plans.

The past month has been Patrick trying to slowly distance himself from it, not exactly regretting proposing - Jonny flaunts the ring around like it’s his most prized possession - but he can’t shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

They’re too young, they’re rushing into this, is what goes through Patrick’s mind every time. He doesn’t peep a word of it to Jonny though, doesn’t want to break the news to him because he might take it the wrong way. So, he sits next to Jonny at breakfast and then at lunch and sometimes for dinner if none of the other guys are available, and he dodges multiple questions about his opinion on bands.

“Or we could have a DJ. I know you wanted that as well,” Jonny says, writing something down on a notepad. The folders around them shouldn’t be this intimidating, but Patrick can’t spare to look at them, keeping his eyes focused on the TV in front of him.

When he doesn’t respond, Jonny nudges him with his foot.

“Hm?” Patrick looks away from the screen, zeroes in on Jonny surrounded by hundred of papers and magazines, practically their whole future ahead of them laid out in patterned tablecloths and laminated place cards. “Uh, I guess I don’t really know,” he mutters and tears his eyes away.

Jonny shuffles next to him. “You’re right. We just had a game, we can do this tomorrow.”

And Patrick really doubts that, but he nods nonetheless, listening to Jonny gather up his loose sheets and stand up, probably to put them away into their closet, where Patrick secretly hopes they’ll stay for a while.

Jonny comes back, his face happy as he raids Patrick’s space, fitting underneath his arm so that they can watch TV together. Patrick knows he didn’t disappoint Jonny tonight, knows that even though it’s the third time this week where Patrick has turned him down, Jonny is still blissful and hopeful, and it almost hurts too much when Patrick sighs out in relief.

*

For the following week, it’s like Jonny won’t talk about anything else.

Patrick tries to keep a straight face, tell Jonny it’s not the time, not right now, they have hockey, maybe later. He watches the hopeful look start to leave Jonny’s face, and Patrick feels like he’s taking something from Jonny, knows that he’s the one causing the hurt look to appears in Jonny’s eyes every time.

He brushes Jonny off after practice, blubbering about how he needs to talk to some of the rookies about their backcheck. He avoids Jonny after they’re both showered and dressed, and when Jonny shoots him a confused look, he tells him that the Sharps invited Patrick over for dinner. Patrick knows it’s a stupid excuse - Abby would never invite Patrick over without Jonny - but it’s all he can come up with. Lately, he feels like he’s suffocating, and the only time he can breathe is when Jonny is not in the same room as him, face full of hurt and confusion.

“Peeks, what’s going on?” Sharpy comes up next to his car where Patrick was leaning, hoping Jonny wouldn’t walk into the parking lot first after practice.

Patrick wipes his hands together, sheepish. “Is it alright if I come over for dinner today?” They have the rest of the day off and are only playing the Devils tomorrow night so usually, they wouldn’t even have to ask if Abby would be alright with it.

It’s why Sharpy furrows his eyebrows. Patrick tries to communicate a ‘please don’t ask’ and ‘if we can get into the car faster, that would be great,’ and thankfully, Sharpy gets it and unlocks the car doors. Patrick is in and buckled before Sharpy even has the chance to sit, and he stuffs his hands in between his thighs, nervous.

He looks over at where Jonny parked their car this morning, when both he and Patrick drove to the arena together. He remembers dodging Jonny’s questions of are you okay, and you know you can talk to me. Patrick wishes he could, but he knows that when he opens his mouth, the only person he’ll be hurting is Jonny. He fucking hates hurting Jonny.

“... a fight with Jonny?” Sharpy is asking when Patrick finally tears his eyes away from the car.

“What?” Patrick asks.

Sharpy puts the car into drive, looking straight ahead. “I said: did you have a fight with Jonny?”

Patrick sighs. A fight would be easier to handle. “No,” he replies, letting his head fall back onto the seat.

“Look, if something happened between you two—” Sharpy starts.

“Nothing happened,” Patrick stops him. He doesn’t need Sharpy assuming anything - assuming that Jonny did something wrong here. “Can we please like, not talk about this.”

Sharpy only hums. It’s agreement enough that Patrick can relax his shoulders, looking out the window as they pass every car in the lot.

His eyes flicker to the exit where Jonny walks out, bag over his shoulder, slumped. It’s right before Sharpy pulls the car out of view that Jonny looks up, meeting Patrick’s gaze. It leaves a strain in his stomach when the only thing Patrick sees is sadness.

*

The Sharps household is loud and warm when they walk in. Patrick leaves his shoes at the door, like he always does, and walks further into the house. He can hear the voices of Sharpy’s two little girls in the living room and the sound of cooking from the kitchen, along with a sweet smell. Patrick tries not to think about how that used to be his and Jonny’s house just a few weeks ago: full of people, their teammates, loud and happy, with the sweet smelling reminder that Jonny was cooking in the kitchen.

Patrick suppresses the thought as much as he can when he finally finds Abby, leaning over the counter, reading from a book. There’s a pot boiling to her left and something smells really good in the oven, making Patrick hungry.

Sharpy walks over to his wife and kisses her on the cheek, gaining her attention. She greets him back and then looks over to Patrick. “Patrick! How are you, I didn’t know you were coming over,” she says, walking over to him and giving him a tight hug.

“Is that alright?” Patrick asks when she pulls back.

It’s not surprising he gets an eye roll in returns as Abby replies, “It’s always alright, shush.” She turns back to what Patrick guesses is a cookbook. “Jonny didn’t come with you?”

Patrick internally winces. He knows Sharpy’s eyes are on him when he lies. “He couldn’t. Coach needed to talk to him about a couple things for next game.”

Sharpy continues to stare and Patrick knows he must have seen Jonny walk out of the arena right after them, proving Patrick to be lying. He doesn’t comment though, letting Abby do the talking. “Well, if he finishes up early, you can tell him to drop by.”

“I will,” Patrick lies again and suddenly the hollow feeling in his stomach is back. “Where are the girls?” He asks, needing a second to breathe and forget about Jonny.

“Living room,” Abby replies. “Patrick, can you help me chop some of these vegetables?” Her question is directed to her husband so Patrick can easily slip out from the kitchen and Sharpy’s stare.

Patrick dodges a couple of boxes in the hallway, guessing the family hasn’t gotten around to finishing unpacking yet. He knows it’s only been a month since they moved back into their old house in Chicago and he also knows how long it took for them to pack all their stuff. He moves around one last box marked ‘Books’ before he hears a small voice cheer happily.

“Peeks!” Maddie jumps up from sitting, the car toys in her lap forgotten as they tumble to the floor. It causes Sadie to look up as well and when she does, her smile is as wide as her sister’s.

Patrick stops in front of them and puts a hand on his chest. “How are my two favourite girls? You guys grew so much since the last time I saw you.”

Maddie giggles and a second later, Patrick hears Sadie do the same. “You saw us last weekend, Peeks. But Sadie grew, look!” Maddie skips to her sister and gets her to stand up. “Daddy’s been measuring her height with a marker on our wall, do you wanna see?”

“How about you show me after dinner?”

Maddie seems content enough with that, nodding and letting Sadie go back to her toys. Patrick goes to sit down near her on the carpet. Sadie grins when he asks to join in on her game, giving Patrick her favourite pink pony to play with. It’s nice and fun and Patrick asks Maddie how she likes her new school, laughing when she says that she prefers Chicago weather to the one in Dallas.

“They let us play outside more because it’s not too hot here,” she explains and that makes Patrick laugh again.

He’s enjoying the simpleness of it all up until Sadie turns to him and asks, “Peeks, where’s Jonny?”

Patrick fights to keep the smile on his face but the question still sends a pang to his chest. He and everyone else knows that Jonny is Sadie’s favourite, for some unexplainable reason, and every time the Sharps would facetime him and Jonny from Dallas, he was the first one she would ask for. Patrick feels worse lying to her than anyone else.

“He had hockey things to take care of so you only get me today, is that okay?” He asks.

Sadie nods quickly. “Yep. I love Peeks too.” Patrick smiles and tickles her on the stomach.

Maddie comes up behind him, laughing happily in his ear. “Tell him he doesn’t have to hide. I promise to stop Sadie from dressing him in pink boas next time.”

Patrick laughs, remembers their last tea party with the girls, Jonny draped in pink feathers and smiling so wide. He remembers how it prompted Jonny to say later that night, when he and Patrick were wrapped up together underneath their sheets, sleepy and come happy, “After the wedding, we should start thinking about kids.”

Patrick had frozen, the arm that was wrapped around Jonny’s waist rigid as he held a long breath. He hadn’t even said anything but he didn’t need to. He knew that Jonny understood that it just wasn’t the time.

“Then when is going to be the time, Patrick?” Jonny would ask later that week after Patrick used the excuse again, finally a couple times too many. He could tell that Jonny’s tired of the constant argument and Patrick just doesn’t know, never knows.

Patrick is thankful for Sharpy in that moment, walking in to greet his daughters in a wide, perfect smile. He stops to glance at Patrick and Patrick urges himself to smile back, a little weakly, silently telling him that he’s fine.

“Why don’t we go clean up for supper? You’ll help Sadie out, right Kaner?” Sharpy says, scooting Maddie towards the bathroom in the hallway.

Patrick nods, moving to coax Sadie into dropping her favourite toy. She finally does after he promises to play with the pink pony again after dinner, happily following her sister to wash up, hand in hand with Patrick.

They walk back into the kitchen afterwards and Abby grabs Sadie from Patrick’s arms. He takes a seat next to Sharpy, across from Maddie and eyes the food. Abby made chicken and it’s probably the best smelling thing Patrick has had in weeks. Mostly he’s been eating takeout or forcing some of the rookies out for supper, telling Jonny that he has to “make them men in the real world.” It’s stupid but effective, just how Patrick likes it to be.

“How was school today, Mads?” Patrick asks once they’ve all set their plates and dug in.

“It was so cool! We had a show and tell and I brought in my favourite puck. The one from my first ever Hawks game!” She stops to eat a piece of chicken, quickly to finish her story. “My teacher was so jealous because he’s been a fan for years and never got one.”

“Maybe Daddy will let you have another that you can give to him, as a thank you at the end of the year,” Abby replies and turns to Sadie to help her with her food.

Maddie talks about school for some more time and then Abby asks Patrick how the season is going so far, working with the rookies. He tells her that it’s a little complicated but they’re all incredibly skilled so he has no doubt they’ll become a power line soon enough.

“Maddie, don’t forget to eat your broccoli,” Abby mentions when the rest of the table seems to be done eating and all the food that’s left is the pile of green on Maddie’s plate.

“Jonny says it’s important to eat your veggies,” Sadie says in a small voice, mumbling a few of the words so they sling together. Patrick hears it just fine.

He doesn’t freeze necessarily. He just lets the conversation drip away from him, focusing intently on the leftover rice in his plate in order to not show his face. Maddie says something back to her sister but Patrick isn’t really listening, just hoping that dinner wraps up soon so that he can escape to the bathroom.

Sharpy comes around to feed Maddie her last piece of broccoli, kissing her on the cheek, and Patrick cracks a small smile. Abby starts collecting their plates then and Patrick jumps up to clean up his own. “It was delicious, Abs.”

“Thank you, Pat,” she responds, smiling.

Patrick lasts about ten more seconds before he blurts out, “Excuse me.” He walks out of the kitchen, purposely ignoring Sharpy and making a beeline for the main bathroom. He locks the door and lets out a long breath.

He doesn’t know what’s wrong. Jonny’s great, he’s better than great, and Patrick loves him so fucking much. He has for years, from when they were small rookies with big dreams and short tempers, to now - to where they’ve grown up in Chicago, together. Patrick remembers all the times he was angry at Jonny and the times he couldn’t hold back how much he loved him. He doesn’t want to believe that anything has changed but there’s this part of him that’s screaming, yelling for him to run, that they shouldn’t be doing this, that he’s suffocating in his own relationship.

“Peeks?”

Patrick tears his eyes away from the mirror, from the worn out expression lying on his face adorned by unruly and too long curls. “I’ll be out in a second,” he breathes out, keeping his voice steady.

Sharpy doesn’t answer. He jiggles the doorknob a couple of times so Patrick sighs, reaching to unlock the door and allow him in. As soon as Sharpy closes the door behind himself, he turns to Patrick and smacks him on the upper arm. “That’s for making my wife think she did something to you. And this,” he says, lifting his arm to hit him again, “is for not telling me what the hell’s wrong with you.” Patrick tries dodging his second hit but gives up, knowing he ultimately deserves it. Sharpy shakes his head. “You’re an idiot.”

Patrick looks away. He won’t cry in front of Sharpy, not about this. “I know. Are we good now?”

“No, we’re not ‘good’,” Sharpy says, exasperatedly quoting the last word. “You’re a good enough hockey player that your personal shit doesn’t affect your hockey but as your favourite friend, I can tell when something’s bothering you.”

“It’s just shit with Jonny, it’s fine.” Patrick leans against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“So, when I asked you back at the arena,” Sharpy starts, trailing off.

“I lied,” Patrick finishes for him. “I didn’t need you thinking Jonny did something. It’s all my fault here.”

Sharpy stays silent, gesturing for him to go on.

Patrick sighs. He knows Sharpy’s going to judge him as soon as he talks, not even sure what he’s going to say, but he knows Sharpy might just slap him again. Patrick lifts his hand to cover the arm that Sharpy hit before. “I’m having second thoughts,” he says, quietly.

He’s not even sure if Sharpy heard him but the look on his face softens from concern to understanding. He asks, “About Jonny?”

“No,” Patrick says, in disbelief. “The wedding, doing it all before I’m ready.”

Sharpy stays indifferent. “When do you think you’ll be ready?”

“I don’t know. After hockey, maybe,” Patrick answers, starting to pace around the small area of the bathroom. “It’s not like I never want to get married. And I know I love Jonny.”

“Of course,” Sharpy chimes in.

“I mean, I proposed for fuck’s sake, and I’m happy with Jonny and I want to spend the rest of my life with him but,” Patrick stops walking, “aren’t we rushing into this?”

The bathroom’s quiet for a while as Patrick stares at Sharpy, waits for him to answer, and growing increasingly worried. Sharpy comes around to where Patrick is and with a emotionless face, asks, “Do you want my honest opinion?”

Sharpy is like a brother to him so yes, Patrick does. “Yes.”

Sharpy sighs, stares at Patrick for a second and then chuckles. Patrick’s just about to call him out but Sharpy holds up a hand. “Kaner, you know I love you, but you’re being an asshole right now.”

Patrick wonders if this is supposed to make him feel better, because it sure as hell doesn’t. “Sharpy,” he starts.

“No, I don’t only mean to Jonny,” Sharpy continues. “You guys have been together for eight years. You’re the complete opposite of rushing things, if anything you’re taking an awfully long time to grow up.”

“Coming from the man that took a month to man up enough to ask a girl out on a date,” Patrick jokes.

Sharpy sighs but cracks a small grin. “We’re talking about you,” he pauses, “and at least I wasn’t drunk when I asked Abby out unlike some people.”

Patrick shrugs. “Jonny dug it.” His tone changes and he’s reminded of the current situation. “Fuck.”

“Fuck is right, man. Look,” Sharpy says, serious, “it’s normal to get cold feet or be scared of the commitment. You guys aren’t even out to the public yet and I know that shit can be scary, but it doesn’t mean you’re making the wrong decision.” He takes another step towards Patrick. “God knows Abby and I both went through this near our wedding, but we got through it and I know you and Jonny will do the same.”

“You think?”

“Kaner, you’ve survived eight years of each other’s shit. What you’re feeling is completely normal and maybe your reaction is a bit extreme but you guys can get through this. Tonight, go home and apologize to Jonny,” Sharpy finishes up.

Patrick knows he must be right. If there’s someone in the world who he trusts more than his parents and Jonny, it’s Sharpy. He’s probably been stupid; being committed to Jonny isn’t a bad thing and he shouldn’t have been this worried. Maybe they have a couple things they need to be careful of until they can come out publicly but Patrick knows that it’s going to be him in Jonny together, in the long run.

“You’re right.” Patrick hates it as much as it’s true, but he has to give Sharpy credit for knowing just how much to push into his life. He sighs. “I should probably head home then.”

Sharpy nods, content. “Well first, I think you owe Sadie another game,” he points out.

Patrick chuckles and agrees. They walk out of the bathroom together and it doesn’t take long before Patrick is sitting cross legged in the girls’ room, pretending that Patrick’s doll is a princess in distress, while Sadie’s comes to save him. It’s comforting for the most part of the evening and after Patrick thanks Abby and Sharpy for everything, he leaves in a good mood and ready as he’ll ever be to see Jonny at home.

*

Patrick walks through the front door and the first thing he can tell is that Jonny is definitely not home. He sighs, dropping his keys into the empty bowl near him and walking further into their house, coming to a stop at their bedroom door. It looks like no one’s been home all day and Patrick wonders if Jonny ever came home after practice. He figures he should text Jonny, deciding to do that if he doesn’t show up by the time Patrick heads for bed. Jonny has to be home soon anyway, they have an early practice tomorrow.

Patrick grabs some clothes from the dresser and opts for a shower to cool himself off. He needs this conversation to go well; he wants to explain everything to Jonny and maybe get him to understand the mindset that Patrick has been in for the past couple of weeks. He knows it was never about his love for Jonny and he needs Jonny to know that as well, can’t think anymore about how Jonny doubted for even a second that Patrick didn’t want to be with him.

Patrick takes fifteen minutes in the shower to waste time and once he’s out, he dries himself and walks to the kitchen to grab something to snack on. The house is too quiet for his liking, so he grabs a granola bar, one of the healthy, all organic kind that Jonny got him into, and quickly goes to turn the TV on.

There are shows on that he couldn’t care about and repeats of last night’s NHL games that he isn’t in the mood for, so Patrick settles on an old movie that he can’t remember the name of. He decidedly doesn’t check the time on his phone more than twice in the next hour, waiting patiently for Jonny but growing worried with every text he doesn’t receive.

Patrick looks at the clock just as the time hits ten thirty and he stands up from his seat. He picks up his phone and pulls up Jonny’s number, hitting the call button without hesitation. It rings once, twice, and then nothing, because Jonny must’ve hit ignore. Patrick winces, pulling his phone down to call again because fuck Jonny, he’s trying to fix this and it would really help if he did his part in this as well.

Before he can tap the number again, Patrick hears the front door open and the shuffling of feet. He hears the door lock, the dropping of keys, and someone bumping into the table they have in the hallway before Jonny’s face appears around the corner.

“Patrick.” Jonny’s voice sounds surprised and his eyes widen like he didn’t expect Patrick to be home.

“Hey,” Patrick says. He watches Jonny’s eyes follow him as he gets closer to him, wary and confused, and it makes Patrick’s stomach sink. “Where’ve you been?”

Jonny doesn’t answer for a moment. It’s weird for them, kind of like most of their conversations over the last three weeks, and Patrick just wants, needs it to end. “Uh, Seabs invited me out with some of the guys and then I went over to Saader’s new place.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “Sharpy was going to come but you and him were—”

He cuts himself off, waving his thought away with his hand and Patrick gets it. Patrick pulled Sharpy away from Jonny, got him on his side of their fight without meaning to - without having Sharpy admit it.

“Well, maybe Sharpy will be up for it tomorrow again, when we win the game,” Patrick says. He doesn’t mention anything about himself and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Jonny, who frowns.

“I think we should talk,” Jonny says. He walks closer to Patrick, who’s standing in the middle of the living room. “Well, we probably have to.”

Patrick is ready for this. Sharpy kicked his ass into gear and he knows that now is the time to apologize to Jonny for everything he did and didn’t do. He takes a deep breath, saying, “Yeah.” He shakes his head. “That’s a really good idea,” he laughs weakly.

He turns to grab the TV remote and click the off button, placing it back onto the coffee table gently. Patrick looks back at Jonny and he knows he has to be the first one to speak if he wants everything to go just right, but before he can, Jonny starts talking.

“We have to take a break.”

Patrick does a couple of things after the words register in his head. He freezes and his eyes widen because no, that’s not what he expected or wanted to hear from Jonny tonight, or ever. It’s not even a maybe, not a “let’s take a little time apart,” but a definite need to take a break and Patrick has to take a long, deep breath to compose himself.

Again, it’s not the usual, happy and loving look that’s sitting in Jonny’s eyes right now, but the empty and flat one that he seemed to have around Patrick the last month or so.

“Jonny,” Patrick says, trying to stay calm, keep his voice cool. He’s trying to find the right words but Jonny doesn’t let him for more than a short moment.

“It’s been bad the last few weeks and I don’t know why or what’s going on with you, or even what I did but,” Jonny stops. He takes a pause and breathes, like he’s trying to convince himself not to back out of this. Patrick can only sit there and take it, every word hitting him like a slap to the face.

“You didn’t do anything,” Patrick says when the pause drags on. Jonny scoffs and Patrick continues, “Seriously Jonny, we don’t have to take a break-”

“Did you seriously not see this coming?” Jonny rubs a hand over his face. “God, Patrick, the last month has been so stressful and hard and you just seem to ignore that fact to focus on hockey—”

“We have to focus on hockey,” Patrick interrupts.

“I know - and we are but,” Jonny stutters, “it’s like you don’t talk to me about anything else.” He stares down Patrick, right in the eye. “Fuck, Pat, did you even want to get married?”

Patrick steps back. He can feel the anger bubbling up, covering past his guilt and hurt, pushing further ahead until he can’t hold it. “Of course I wanted to. I fucking proposed, didn’t I?” He clenches his hand into a fist.

“All our friends were getting married, including your own sister,” Jonny says, pointedly.

Patrick furrows his eyebrows. “What does that have to do with anything?” They were invited to three weddings just over two years ago, during the beginning of the summer that Patrick proposed to Jonny. It was never Patrick’s scene, Jonny knows that, but some of their best friends were expecting them, and like hell Patrick was going to miss Erica’s wedding.

Jonny shrugs. “Maybe you felt obliged to do it - or you didn’t want to be the last of our friends who isn’t married.”

“That’s ridiculous, Jonny, what the hell.” Patrick shakes his head in disbelief. Nothing about this is making sense, not the fight and not how everything is seemingly falling apart.

“It’s all that makes sense to me now,” Jonny argues, “I get you not being ready right now but we’ve been engaged for two damn years. Anytime I mention wedding plans, it’s like you freeze me out.”

“I’m allowed to get cold feet.” Sharpy said exactly so, Patrick might add. “I’m allowed to worry about the future and have second thoughts. But never did I once regret proposing to you or being with you.” He makes a point of standing straight to show he’s serious, to somehow make what he’s saying register in Jonny’s thick head.

“No,” Jonny says, his voice monotone. “Just enough to completely shut me out for a month.”

Patrick’s mouth feels insanely dry. “You know what,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest and breathing in slowly. “If that’s what you believe, then fine. You’re right and this probably wouldn’t have worked out.”

“What wouldn’t have worked out?” Jonny asks, matching Patrick’s tone of voice, pointed and quick.

“Us getting married,” Patrick answers, bluntly. The tension in the room thickens around him after he says it and deep down, he knows he’s wrong - the two of them would’ve worked so well, but Jonny’s not giving him any other option than to be furious.

Jonny’s face contorts, his mouth opening and his eyes widening like they can’t believe Patrick would admit it. It’s quickly covered by anger and his arms fly up to cross over his chest, matching Patrick’s stance. It doesn’t seem like either one of them is going to say anything after that, until Jonny mutters, “Leave.”

Plain, simple, and blunt: the way Jonny acts under circumstances like these and Patrick hates it. Hates that Jonny doesn’t correct him or fight him on what he said. Hates that this isn’t how the two normally act around each other, usually butting heads, disagreeing, but eventually bouncing back from a tough situation. He hates it so much that he wants to yell and he feels the emotions jumping around inside of him, like they’re all about to burst out at any moment.

“You’re serious?” Patrick says through his teeth.

Jonny doesn’t budge. “Yeah,” he answers after a moment. He spits it out quickly, like he can’t handle to hold any more of the conversation.

“Fine,” Patrick says, straightening up and dropping his arms. “You want me to go, I’ll go,” and when Jonny keeps his gaze to the floor and away from Patrick, staying completely silent, Patrick storms out of the kitchen.

He has to pass Jonny to go to the bedroom and brushes his arm quickly. It pains him but he keeps his head up straight, focused on grabbing a bag, shoving Jonny’s clothes out of the way so he can get to his own, and stuffing in anything he might need.

“Patrick,” Jonny mumbles behind him after five minutes of Patrick rummaging through their drawers to find socks. He sounds smaller, almost regretful and it makes Patrick swivel around quickly.

“What?” Patrick demands.

His tone is far from sincere and it must cut through to Jonny because if any apologies were planning to pass his lips, they’re gone now. Jonny’s face tightens back up and he squints his eyes into a glare. “Forget it,” is what he spits out before turning out of the room, leaving Patrick alone by their bed.

He finishes up as fast as he can, starting to feel like he’s suffocating again, all of it from the last month coming back to him in a hard wave. He decidedly leaves anything that they shared, ignoring the framed pictures of the two of them that they keep beside their bed, and shoving a pair of shoes onto his feet. Most of the things in the bathroom are left untouched; he can’t bother to go through all of them now, and all he really wants is his toothbrush for tonight.

When he zips up his bag, he takes one last glance around the room, the pit in his stomach growing as he stares at their memories, all together in a place where he thought they’d be safe. Before it can hurt any longer, he shoulders the bag and heads for the door.

Patrick finds Jonny in the living room. There’s a show playing on TV but he knows it’s left unwatched. Jonny looks up when Patrick steps on the floorboards, right where it creeks. His eyes are empty and his expression is unreadable, so Patrick hooks the bag higher up and looks towards the front door.

“I’ll find a place to crash tonight,” Patrick says, his voice groggy for some reason and he hates it. “I’ll figure out the rest of my stuff later.”

Jonny nods and honestly, fuck him. The least he can do is say something in their situation being that Patrick is the one who has to leave home.

Patrick leaves it at that though. He walks down the rest of the hall, sweeping his eyes over the walls and the table they have set up right next to the door. He grabs his keys from on top and his eyes get caught on the bowl they’re in. It’s an ugly grey one, barely matching their house decor, and it’s all TJ Oshie’s fault anyway. It was a housewarming gift he thinks, given to them when they first moved in, five years ago, and that’s just what Patrick’s leaving behind: five years of memories in one place, and nearly ten from the moment he met Jonny.

He can’t stare any longer, nor stay in the house for another minute, so he musters up any energy he’ll need and without saying another word to Jonny, opens the front door and walks out.

*

Patrick’s been broken up with for about an hour when Sharpy calls him. Patrick doesn’t see how he could’ve heard about it already, Jonny wouldn’t have said anything that quickly. He stares at Sharpy’s contact picture for about five seconds before deciding to answer, thinking that if he does know then it’s better to get it over with.

“Hello?” Patrick answers.

Sharpy’s voice booms from the other side of the line. “Peeks! How did it go with you and the missus?”

Patrick frowns and stares down at his fingers, their colour dull under the lights of the club he found with the team last weekend. They hadn’t been back; it was dark and didn’t have music that pleased the guys but it was also cheap and empty, perfect for Patrick to hide out and drink until he can’t remember the look on Jonny’s face when he walked out the front door.

Really, the reason he chose a sleazy bar to go out to was because he knows it’ll piss Jonny off if he ever found out that Patrick had been there, drinking irresponsibly. And right now, Patrick couldn’t care how much more Jonny could be disappointed in him.

“Kaner?” Sharpy asks in his ear.

“Uh,” Patrick says. He doesn’t even know what to say to Sharpy, half embarrassed and angry.

There’s shuffling on the other end, like Sharpy’s moving around and walking into another room. “What happened?”

“Jonny broke up with me.”

The shuffling stops. Patrick hears a sigh coming from the other end so he knows Sharpy must’ve heard what he said. He’s probably trying to process it and God knows Patrick has been there.

“What happened?” Sharpy asks again.

Patrick rolls his eyes. He gestures to the bartender to fill up his glass again quickly and then focuses back on Sharpy, saying, “Plain and simple, I got dumped. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going back to drinking, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Again, the sounds of someone moving quickly on the other side are heard and Sharpy barely lets Patrick finish his sentence before asking where he is. Patrick tells him, although reluctant, because even though he does want to drink to forget what happened between him and Jonny, he’d rather have Sharpy there to help scrape him off the bar at the end of the night.

Sharpy hangs up with him to drive, he guesses, and Patrick turns to where the bartender is finishing up pouring his new drink. He’s not even sure what’s in it; he thinks rum but Patrick doesn’t care enough to ask because the bartender’s cute and this was his favourite drink.

He’s obviously not going to do anything about it, it’s all fun and games and Patrick is tired of not having fun. He sips on the drink at first and then downs the rest, letting the glass slam onto the counter as he tries to swallow. Patrick asked for anything strong and well, that’s what he’s getting.

He gets asked to dance, by one guy and two girls, in the time it takes Sharpy to arrive, but Patrick can’t seem to be anything but a wobbling mess on the dance floor. It barely registers in his mind when Sharpy grabs Patrick by the right arm, straightening him up and pulling him away from the girls.

“Fuck, Kaner,” Sharpy is saying as he drops Patrick into a booth on the side of the club.

Patrick’s ass hits the seat hard. He groans and curses Sharpy under his breath, thankful that it gets drowned out by the music. “Was dancing,” Patrick mumbles as Sharpy takes the seat next to him.

Sharpy side eyes him. “I know you think you’re good at dancing but that wasn’t nice to look at from here.”

Patrick shrugs and looks around. His spot at the bar was taken over by another guy, larger than him, and the bartender seems to be leaning into him the way he was with Patrick. Patrick scoffs; he’s way hotter than that guy anyway.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” Sharpy gains back Patrick’s attention.

Patrick lets his head drop down until he’s glaring at the table in front of them. He wonders if he stares at it long enough it’ll magically swallow him into a place without Jonny and Sharpy questioning him.

“Kaner.” Sharpy’s voice causes Patrick to look up. He only uses that tone when he’s very serious and Patrick sees how exasperated Sharpy is. “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me,” Sharpy points out. “Even with you slurring, it’s better than nothing.”

Patrick’s shoulders slump forward. “You can’t help,” he practically whispers. With more volume he says, “Jonny kicked me out because he doesn’t believe I want to be with him.” He looks up and locks eyes with Sharpy, who looks both shocked and upset, and Patrick gets it. “Yeah,” he breathes out, finally.

Sharpy’s quiet for a long time. Patrick has to keep looking up at him to make sure he’s still present and it’s the same, thoughtful look on Sharpy’s face every time.

Right before Patrick is about to get up and head to the bar, wanting to be away from Sharpy’s weird aura, Sharpy grabs his arm. Patrick gives him a confused look when Sharpy doesn’t start talking right away.

“You can come stay at my house,” Sharpy finally says after Patrick starts protesting for him to get off.

Patrick moans. He’s starting to feel a bit nauseous. “No, man,” he chokes out. “It’s fine.”

Sharpy shoots him a pointed look. “Abby won’t mind if that’s what you’re worried about, and neither will I.”

“I’ll just get in the way.” Patrick shakes his head at the idea, as easy as it would be to accept the offer. “You have two daughters—”

“Who love you. And I know you love them too,” he says, pointing at Patrick accusingly. “C’mon, I can’t let you go to a hotel like this.”

Patrick winces and debates the idea in his head. As much as he doesn’t want to intrude of his family, he equally doesn’t want to sleep at a hotel. They’re the worst and if he weren’t forced to sleep there on road trips, he’d never step foot into one again. “Okay, fine,” he agrees after a beat.

Sharpy smiles.

“Only doing it for you,” Patrick jokes, “I know how you love seeing my face first thing in the morning.”

Sharpy snorts and shakes his head but he’s happy, Patrick can tell. They hang out for a couple more minutes and Sharpy grabs water for Patrick to drink and sober up. When his bill is paid and everything, Sharpy follows Patrick to his car so they can grab the bag he packed earlier that night.

“We’ll come back for your car tomorrow before practice,” Sharpy says and Patrick groans loudly. He’d forgotten they had practice and a game tomorrow but he’s fine. He’s Patrick Kane, he can power through anything.

“Sure, buddy,” Sharpy says, giving Patrick a knowing look and he figures he must’ve repeated that out loud to himself. “Get in.” Sharpy nudges Patrick to the passenger side of the car as he tosses Patrick’s bag in the backseat.

Patrick opens the door and gets in, sighing as he sits down. The car ride makes him tired so he leans his head onto the headrest and closes his eyes, wavering between consciousness all the way to Sharpy’s house. It’s the second time he’ll be there in a day so he’s pretty nervous about Abby’s reaction, but Patrick figures Sharpy would have filled her in on what happened by now.

The girls are sleeping since it’s already way past twelve and Abby is waiting in the living room but clearly dressed for bed. She shows Patrick to the guest room, quietly to not wake the girls, and it’s not long before he passes out on the bed, still dressed in his day clothes and ready to deal with everything else in the morning.

*

Patrick wakes up with a raging headache the next morning. He rubs at his eyes and for a second doesn't recognize the room he's in, but figures that Sharpy must've dumped him in the guest room last night.

He gets exactly three minutes to wash up in the bathroom before Sharpy’s barging in, telling Patrick to hurry up so they can get to their morning practice. Patrick rushes through brushing his teeth, ignoring the urge to vomit as he tries hiding his hangover.

It doesn’t work too well because Abby shoots him a knowing look when he and Sharpy walk into the kitchen for a quick breakfast. She must know about him and Jonny also because her eyes are pitying as she stares at him across the table.

“Ready to go?” Sharpy asks when they’ve eaten and their coffees are mostly done.

Abby looks up from the grocery flyer she was flipping through. She mentioned how she already dropped off Maddie at school and Sadie at daycare and she was going to finish arranging the guest room for Patrick on her day off of work.

Patrick nods.

Both of them are mostly silent on the way to Johnny’s Ice House, Patrick looking out the window instead of at Sharpy when he asks Patrick how he’s doing.

“Fine,” Patrick mumbles because he is. Really, Patrick thinks he deserves a medal for how well he is handling what happened and for even showing up to practice, if you forget last night’s incident.

Sharpy doesn’t say much else, just talks about hockey and where they should eat for lunch before they have to go home and nap. They pull into the parking lot and Sharpy parks on the farthest end, making Patrick grumble about how far they have to walk, only to annoy him.

Practice is uneventful. Patrick runs drills with the team, works on line matchups and then they have a half hour to themselves. He skates over to Vinnie since Patrick’s pretty much taken the kid under his wing for the season, and starts passing to him, working with Duncs on a 2 on 1. Jonny doesn’t talk to him once.

Patrick distracts himself for a while, advising Vinnie to hold his stick lower to the ice and bend his knee to catch Patrick’s pass that soars over Duncs’ stick towards him. They score three goals before the call it a day.

“Nice job, Vin,” Patrick says, tapping the kid’s stick as he skates past him to get off the ice.

Vinnie grins and then returns back to his conversation with Hartzy. Patrick walks towards the locker room, dropping his stick onto the pile as he passes. Sharpy’s already in the room, his jersey in his hands as he stands across from Saader, saying something that gets him to laugh loudly and shove Sharpy away from his locker.

Patrick walks calmly to his locker and he exhales as he sits down. Sharpy’s standing in front of him as soon as he does and Patrick knows he’s grinning down at him without looking up. “So, Peeks,” Sharpy starts and Patrick glances up, not being able to ignore him anymore. “Are we doing lunch?”

“If you’re paying,” Patrick jokes.

Vinnie and Hartzy walk in then, along with some of the other guys, and none of them are Jonny. Patrick stares at his empty locker, can’t remember where he went after their drills.

Sharpy spots them and bounds over. “Vin, Hartz. Lunch with the Patricks?” he asks and Patrick laughs to himself. The kids probably know by now that they’re going to get stuck with the check but they don’t mind, agreeing to go with him and Sharpy anyway.

It doesn’t take them too long to get showered and dressed, but the whole time, Jonny’s locker is bare and looks exactly how he left it before he went on for practice. Patrick tries convincing himself that Jonny’s probably talking to Coach about something, but he still hates the fact that his mind wanders to the possibility that Jonny can’t stand to be in the same room as him.

He shrugs his bag onto his shoulder and follows Sharpy to his car. Vinnie’s is right behind them and they decide on their usual spot, a small diner a couple blocks away from the arena. It’s never too crowded and they always have a table in the back empty for the team on game days. The four of them greet Laure, the waitress who usually serves them around lunchtime and they sit down at their table, Sharpy on Patrick’s right and Vinnie directly across from him, next to Hartzy.

They talk about random stuff, Sharpy takes turns chirping them all and then just Vinnie and Hartzy. “You two have become real codependent.”

Patrick can see Vinnie blush even though he knows Sharpy meant it as a joke, not really implying anything. He stares down at the table and to save the kid, Patrick changes the subject, asking Hartzy about summer.

He doesn’t want to spend any more time comparing himself and Jonny to Vinnie and Hartzy in his mind, but he can’t help it when they flaunt how close they are across the locker room and on the ice.

Their food comes and goes and Patrick sits through the rest of it quietly, laughing only when he’s included in the conversation and wishing for time to go faster so he can go home, nap, and then be on the ice again.

“We’re gonna win tonight,” Sharpy says when they get home - says it like he’s trying to put Patrick in a better mood.

Patrick grins at that, walking to his room to nap, and does end up wishing that the game goes well for them tonight.

*

The game doesn’t go well. They’re down 2-0 after the first and then Patrick’s on the ice for the third goal against, just a few minutes into the second period.

It’s a beautiful goal, really. Patrick grinds his teeth down as he thinks about it, skating towards the bench for the next shift to go on for the centre ice faceoff, and hates how impressed he is by the skill showed.

He would’ve had him, if Hischier wasn’t so quick on passes and zooming past the Hawks defense like it was nothing to him. The puck glided so easily on his stick and there was a moment where Patrick thought the kid might go five-hole, but in the last second the puck lifted up in the air, over Crow’s blocker, like it was flying on its own. It was a highlight reel goal, and Patrick knows he’s going to see it everywhere tonight: on TV when they show it countless times while talking about how the first overall pick is taking the NHL by storm, and later, when Jonny replays it for him on his tablet, wanting to nitpick what Patrick might’ve missed, what might’ve led to the goal.

“I just don’t get why you didn’t get back there,” Jonny says, dumping his helmet into his stall after they’d just lost 5-2 to the Devils.

Hischier’s goal was the game winner, just to add salt to an already gaping wound, and Patrick had known this would come, had known since he saw Jonny practically fuming on the bench and refusing to look him in the eye. Despite his late attempts to bring it back - the only person who really appreciated Patrick’s goal at the end of the second period was Patrick - it was hopeless and they let the crowd of the UC walk away disappointed.

“I thought Duncs had him covered,” Patrick mumbles. The guys are starting to trickle in after them since they were the first ones storming down the hallway to the locker room, but no one seems to want to listen in on their conversation. Patrick envies them.

Jonny huffs in return. “You thought he had him,” he repeats, under his breath. “You thought _wrong,_ Patrick.”

Patrick throws a glove down. “Fuck you.” A couple of the guys look up when he spits out the words but he’s too busy to care. “You saw how far back I was, there was no way I was catching up with the kid that quickly.”

“You could have tried instead of standing around two hundred feet away.” Jonny’s not even looking in Patrick’s direction but there’s no doubt in Patrick’s mind that he’s glaring at his equipment as he rips it off.

Patrick shakes with anger. “I wasn’t the only one on the damn team tonight. Where were you during the second period, or the third?”

Patrick can see Jonny shake his head. “You shouldn’t have scored in the second if you weren’t going to show up in the third. Nice useless fucking hope, Kaner.” He finally stands up, throwing off the last of his gear and reaching down to grab his things to head for the shower.

The entire locker room is silent and Patrick can feel the tension rushing through his own body because of how angry he is at Jonny. “Where the fuck was your goal, then?” He calls out just as Jonny exits the room, just to have the last say, just to hurt Jonny more because Patrick knows how he gets after a particularly awful loss. Jonny ignores him.

Patrick’s chest deflates as he lets out a long breath when Jonny’s been out of the room for more than thirty seconds. The team has started shuffling around him, taking off their jerseys and pads but not saying a word. Sharpy gives him a pointed, unimpressed look from a few stalls down, and Patrick has to look away in order not to see it anymore. The disappointment or the pity, he doesn’t know which one’s worse.

Patrick stays tense as he undresses and waits around until Jonny stalks back into the locker room. He takes it as his cue to hit the showers and without saying anything to anyone, Patrick walks out of the room. He knows Jonny will be gone when he comes back, and that’s exactly what he’s hoping for, but just in case, Patrick takes an extra long time shampooing his hair.

Like he expected, it’s not Jonny waiting for him, but Sharpy instead. He’s Patrick’s ride so Patrick sucks it up, goes over to his stall to get dressed and pack up his bag so they can get out of there. They’re not the last ones in the room so Patrick waves goodbye to the rest of the team, then follows Sharpy to the car so they can head back to the Sharps’ house.

*

After about a week of them being broken up and Jonny kicking Patrick out, Jonny shows up at the Sharps’ household. Sharpy, Abby and the kids are all out, visiting Abby’s mother for the weekend, and Patrick has the place to himself. Sharpy was pretty hesitant about leaving him alone, worried for reasons he wouldn’t tell Patrick and Patrick does somewhat regret practically forcing him out of his own house. He probably wouldn’t have if he knew Jonny would be dropping in for a visit.

“Sharpy and Abby aren’t here,” he says to Jonny, who’s standing on their porch, after a silent moment when neither one of them spoke. It’s dark out and Patrick’s not sure how late it is but he knows he probably would’ve headed to bed if it weren’t for Jonny.

“I know,” Jonny replies. “Sharpy texted me when they left yesterday.”

Of course he did. Patrick nods, not moving to close the door in Jonny’s face nor open it further and invite Jonny in. He doesn’t want to be the one to make the first move, letting Jonny decide how this plays out since their only ball left is pretty much in Jonny’s court.

“Can I come in?” Jonny does end up asking and Patrick tries his best to not smile and swing the door open. They hadn’t spoken much since the argument in the locker room besides Jonny adding his input into Patrick’s practice with the rookies.

“Yeah,” Patrick says, making room for Jonny to pass and taking his time closing the door, so that Jonny’s already in the kitchen when he locks it. Jonny doesn’t look angry, which is a good thing, meaning they’re probably both over what happened.

“Is it about coming out?” Jonny asks as soon as Patrick makes it to the doorway of the kitchen.

Patrick freezes. “What?”

Jonny walks around the room, practically pacing up and down the kitchen, and he keeps his face neutral. “I’ll come out. For you, if it’s what you need.” And okay, Jonny’s determined to have this conversation.

“No,” Patrick says and Jonny stops walking. “I don’t want you to come out for me.”

“No, I,” Jonny starts. He can’t seem to make eye contact with Patrick, both nervous. “It would be for me too. I’ve actually, uh, been thinking about doing it for a while.”

Patrick furrows his eyebrows. “What, you have?” Jonny’s never mentioned it before. Implied it, sure, but he always figured they were on the same page about it. He figured they had time before it got to that point, before they had to tell the public about them, about their relationship. “You never,” Patrick trails off.

“I did.” Jonny’s tone is curt, quick, and his face looks stricken. “You, it’s like you never listened to me this past month. About getting married, coming out,” he pauses, “about kids,” he ends, quietly.

And fuck. Patrick’s stomach flips and he would almost run to the bathroom and throw up his supper if it wasn’t so important to finish this conversation. “I didn’t know we needed to do that,” he says, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Fuck, Pat. We didn’t have to do anything but it would’ve been nice to talk about it.” Jonny’s growing increasingly angry, what with the way his voice raises and he stands up straighter. “We could’ve spoken about our future, literally anything besides fucking hockey and the power play.”

“You love talking about hockey,” Patrick points out, his body stiffening. He can feel himself getting defensive. “It’s our job, Jonny.”

“And when we’re on the ice for practice or a game, or in the locker room, we can talk about it. But at home, during supper, in our bed,” Jonny breathes out loudly, closing his eyes for a second and then reopening them to lock with Patrick’s. “I don’t want to hear about Saad’s backcheck or our decreasing power play points.”

“I had to keep things normal, I told you that,” Patrick says and Jonny shakes his head. “I was driving myself crazy, I’m sorry.”

Jonny doesn’t say anything for a second. The kitchen is quiet, just their own matched, hard breathing, and Sharpy’s fridge working behind them being the only sounds audible before Jonny speaks again.

“That’s not normal for us,” he starts. “Normal isn’t avoiding each other and not coming home until midnight on a game night. Normal for us,” Jonny starts gesturing between the two of them wildly, like he’s slowly going crazy himself, “is not going weeks without sex, or fuck, even kissing.”

“I just needed a little space,” Patrick says, his voice steady.

“No.” Jonny shakes his head. “I gave you space and then I couldn’t anymore because you were already gone.”

The nauseous feeling is back in Patrick’s stomach. Jonny’s voice is cold and pained, like he hates himself as much as he hates Patrick for ruining what they had. He looks done with the conversation and Patrick wonders if this is the only reason he came over, to yell at Patrick. He only knows the answer when Jonny deflates, staring at Patrick for a second before turning and walking out the kitchen.

The tension in the room lingers even long after the front door closes. Patrick runs a hand over his face and through his hair, a mix of horrible emotions in his chest. The house is back to feeling too big, too empty, too quiet, and Patrick can’t do much besides turning on the TV in the living room and passing out to repeats of last night’s games.

*

It shouldn’t be surprising when Patrick wakes up to his phone ringing and Q’s contact showing up. He never calls Patrick directly anymore but Patrick’s sure that after his and Jonny’s little argument in the locker room, they were bound to be called down sometime this week. Sure enough, Q tells him they each have an hour to be ready and at the UC for a meeting, not specifying for what but Patrick knows, trudging out of bed and to the shower.

Sharpy and Abby are already up so he quickly tells them where he’s off to, reassuring Sharpy that everything’s fine, and heads out the door. It seems like the drive over to the arena goes by so quickly because Patrick stays lost in his own thoughts.

The meeting is going to be the same as always: reprimand them for bringing their personal shit onto the ice and between the team. Q holds a very strong hand on that rule and Patrick has learnt to follow it, never thinking once that he might break it, and with Jonny especially.

“If you have something to deal with at home, leave it at the doors of the arena, alright?” Q is standing behind his desk, both hands planted as he leans over, getting closer to Patrick and Jonny’s faces.

Patrick has barely looked at Jonny since he walked in, but now he spares a glance to his side. Jonny nods his head to answer Q.

When Patrick looks back at his coach, Q is moving to sit back in his chair. He’s probably tired of yelling. “Is this something we’re going to have to get involved with or can you two fix it on your own?”

By ‘we’ Patrick supposes he means all of management and there’s no way he’s allowing that. Jonny seems to be on the same page, shaking his head quickly. “No, sir. We’ll deal with it,” he says and Patrick furrows his eyebrows.

He doesn’t know how they will but he still has to go along with what Jonny said, to get Q thinking that everything’s going to be alright between them. Patrick tries grinning and with the way Q calms down and breathes out in relief, he supposes it looks convincing enough.

“You can go,” Q dismisses them. “Optional skate tomorrow, boys. I expect to see you on the ice,” and okay, so they might not be totally in the clear yet, Patrick guesses.

Jonny’s out of the room before Patrick, not exactly running but a near thing. When Patrick closes the door to Q’s office behind him, Jonny’s waiting, leaning on the wall of the hallway, faux-casual. He starts walking next to Patrick and they don’t say anything until they reach the tunnel to the parking lot.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick mumbles when the silence starts eating at him. He hears Jonny breathe in next to him and his shoulder knocks against Patrick’s accidentally.

“Me too,” Jonny says. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you in front of the team. Or maybe at all.” He has what looks like the slightest smirk on his face when Patrick looks at him, but it’s so small that Patrick wonders if it’s even there.

Patrick stops walking. Jonny, now ahead of him, stops as well, staring straight ahead. And then, in one quick and surprising moment, turns around and pushes Patrick to the nearest wall, pinning his back to the tile and his chest flush against Jonny’s.

“We–”

Patrick’s words don’t make it out because Jonny is connecting their mouths, lips catching on Patrick’s as he shuts him up. Patrick doesn’t move, can’t and won’t, for a few seconds but then it registers and fuck - Jonny is kissing him. His body seems to catch up with his brain as well and his hands fly up, caressing Jonny’s face, neck, shoulders, pulling Jonny as close as he possibly can with his limited space.

Jonny’s hands are in Patrick’s hair in an instant, his chest still attached to Patrick’s, keeping them locked together in their small, personal space.

Patrick opens up for Jonny’s tongue, lets him lick into Patrick’s mouth before he’s doing the same. Patrick wants to make a sound, a desperate one to show Jonny just how much he loves this, how much he’s missed and needed this, but it’s hard, too distracted with fisting his hand into Jonny’s loose t-shirt, wondering why Jonny even bothers to wear one at all.

Jonny isn’t stronger than him but with the way his body is pushing Patrick’s onto the wall behind him, Patrick can only move his hips, bucking them forward, wanting to make contact with Jonny. The kiss is urgent from the start, Patrick trying to keep up with Jonny’s fast pace, and he has to breathe, has to pull away for a split second before attaching his lips to Jonny’s jaw and tracing down his neck. His tongue comes out to follow the trail, breathing hard as he goes, but he only gets so far before Jonny is moving back.

The look in Jonny’s eyes is wild, his breathing hard and matching Patrick’s. Patrick protests, wanting to continue kissing Jonny, never wanting to stop, but soon enough, Jonny is on the complete opposite side of the hallway, too far to touch.

“We can’t - no,” Jonny is saying, more mumbling to himself if anything, probably forgetting Patrick is there. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Patrick is silent for a beat. “But you did,” he breathes out eventually, still winded and confused from what just happened.

Jonny looks up, making eye contact with him and it almost seems like he’s searching for something, something that might explain why he kissed Patrick so suddenly, so urgently. Patrick wishes he knew. “I’m sorry.”

Patrick wants to protest more or demand some answers but he just watches as Jonny hesitates, fingers brushing his lips like they betrayed him, and then turns to walk away, leaving Patrick standing alone in the tunnel, breathless.

*

Patrick wakes up the next morning with multiple texts lighting up his phone screen. He yawns and stretches, grabbing his phone from the bedside table and squinting to read.

They’re mostly from Erica, and one from Vinnie, asking him what time they should meet at the Johnny’s for their one on one. He sends back, _11, don’t be late kid,_ even though it’s Patrick who might show up at twenty past. He opens up the messages from Erica next and they’re all the same.

 _Skype!!!!_ she sent last, around fifteen minutes ago.

_give me 2 mins_

Patrick gets up, walking to the ensuite and heading straight to pee. He doesn’t try to remember the morning he had yesterday, too confused and angry afterwards that he just pushed it to the back of his mind. Jonny kissed him and left, didn’t even want to talk to Patrick about it so yes, Patrick has a reason to be mad.

He hopes talking to Erica might make him feel better; he’s missed his whole family like crazy lately, especially while having to go through his breakup with Jonny alone. They’ve texted and called a lot after the fact but it’s not the same as having them here with him.

Erica’s face is popping up on the screen minutes later, after he clicks on her contact, and she’s practically beaming through the screen.

“Hi, Patty!” she answers the call. Her face is blurry on the screen because of the connection not reaching all the way to Patrick’s room, but Patrick can still see her smiling.

“Hi.” His own smile matches hers and he forgets all about Jonny for the next few minutes.

Erica asks him about living at Sharpy’s, completely diverting the reason why, and Patrick asks about things back in Buffalo. Erica’s living with her husband now so she doesn’t see their parents nearly as often but she does her best to fill him on and anything he might’ve missed since he last called. His mom’s been calling her every day since she moved out and Patrick laughs because that’s exactly how it was for him when he left home.

She also begs him to send new pictures of Maddie and Sadie and he promises to do so when they hang up.

“How is it living with the Sharps?” she inquires afterwards.

Patrick shrugs. “It’s nice. I love them all even though Sharpy can be a real pain in the ass,” he jokes, chuckling.

Erica’s face remains neutral as she stares at him for a moment. Then she sighs, “Patty, have you even started looking at apartments?”

“Of course,” he staggers. Patrick watches her look uncertain with his answer. “Why?”

Erica’s the one who shrugs now. “I don’t want you to drag this out, hoping that one day Jonny is going to let you move back in.”

Patrick is taken back. He blinks at the screen but her worried expression stays on her face. It hasn’t even been what he’s doing; Patrick has googled listings in the neighbourhood but they’re too small or too far from the UC or the bars, and he just doesn’t see the point of rushing. It wasn’t about him hoping that Jonny would forgive him soon but now - it’s something he can’t stop thinking about.

He hangs up with Erica a few minutes later, after her husband calls her and she mutters something about going out for breakfast. She demands another call from him soon and Patrick, not being one to disappoint his sisters, promises that he’ll be in touch.

Patrick isn’t waiting for Jonny to take him back. If anything, Patrick is the one who has a right to be pissed as well and he doesn’t know where that leaves them.

*

They have a road trip that drags out over four days that Patrick’s dreading with every fiber in his body. He leaves with Sharpy in the morning to meet up with the rest of the team but he would love nothing better than to hole up in their guest room instead for the next few days and he couldn’t do that to the team or to Abby. Even though she would like to keep her own husband home and not send him away, Patrick is starting to feel like a burden on the family since Erica mentioned that possibility to him. He doesn’t voice his thoughts, knowing he might get slapped by both Sharpy and Abby, but it just adds to the allover motivation he needs to find an apartment for himself.

He’s searching the area for any that are close to the UC and not too far from Sharpy’s place. It’s hard when the best apartments were in the building that he and Jonny used to live in together, but Patrick will probably settle on one soon enough.

When Sharpy parks the car, Patrick waits a few seconds before getting out and grabbing his bag from the trunk. Most of the team is already gathered up and it’s not long before they’re all told to start heading towards the bus.

Patrick can see Jonny closer to the front of the group and it’s like Patrick is back in the hallway, his breath catching in his throat as he remembers how Jonny kissed him, how he grabbed and pushed him.

Jonny has earphones in, tucked underneath the hood of his sweater, and he’s walking next to Seabs, and he never once glances back to make eye contact with Patrick. They board the bus and Patrick already knows that when he climbs up, Jonny will be all the way in the back, in his favourite seat. It’s not surprising that he’s sitting next to Seabs either, even with Duncs in front of them, looking lost next to Crow.

Patrick stops walking in the middle of the bus, taking the window seat on the right side of the aisle. Sharpy glances up when he sits, looking to the back and then plopping down next to Patrick.

“Tired, Peeks?” he asks when Patrick drops his head back onto the seat, stretching out his legs as far in front of him as possible. Sharpy has a grin on his face when Patrick looks at him.

“Just wish we were in Columbus already,” he groans in response. Patrick fists a hand into his pocket to dig out his tangled earphones.

“We still have a whole flight ahead of us,” Sharpy says, patting his leg. After that, Sharpy leaves him to do his own thing, grabbing a book from his bag and settling in next to Patrick. Patrick blasts whatever’s on his recent playlist on Spotify and doesn’t mind when an old R&B hit starts playing.

It’s not long before they’re boarding the plane either and the seating arrangements stay the same as they were on the bus. Duncs almost looks like he’s about to protest when Jonny takes the aisle seat next to Seabs but he leaves it be, sulking as he passes them to sit in the row behind them.

Patrick chooses seats even further away now and Sharpy stays silent, just plops down next to him and opens up his book again. The flight isn’t even long enough for Patrick to fall asleep, so he stares out the window, Ne-yo singing _So Sick_ in his ears, and he relaxes while he waits for the plane to touch ground again.

An hour and a half later, the guys are all standing up and stretching. Patrick follows, getting up and waiting for Sharpy to move out into the aisle so he can get in line to exit. He thinks he sees Jonny craning his head and searching around the crowd for something but his eyes never land on Patrick.

Soon, they’re all shuffled out and into a bus to take them to the hotel. Their game is later that night and then they’re leaving the next morning to go back home to Chicago for a day off. Then they play Columbus again. Patrick is really hoping they win both games, not only because he hates losing, but because it’s the first time he’s playing against Panarin all season and he needs every article about how terrible he’ll be against his former linemate to stop.

They do it. Vinnie shoots Patrick a sweet pass at the beginning of the game that Patrick flips right into the net. As he’s skating to hug his linemates, Patrick shouts into Vinnie’s ear, “I owe you a beer for that one, man.” He pulls away smiling and then goes to skate towards the bench to fist bump the rest of the team.

From there on, it’s Hawks territory. Patrick would almost feel bad for the home fans if it wasn’t so much fucking fun. Crawford blocks shot after shot and soon they’re up 2-0, when Jonny slaps one right over Bobrovsky’s blocker. Patrick cheers, high fiving the guys around him, and when Jonny comes racing back towards the bench, he smiles brightly. Jonny makes eye contact for a split second and Patrick swears he can see the smile grow wider on Jonny’s face.

They win it 4-0, after two more goals from Arty and Hartzy, and it’s wildly loud in the visitor’s locker room. Chants are flying around the room and then a voice is calling out, “Drinks tonight?” and a chorus of agreements are heard. Patrick voices his own presence and Sharpy, who stole the stall next to him, leans down and ruffles up his hair.

The club they choose is the same one they go to every time they visit and win, and most of the guys who tagged along disperse quickly, filling up tables or heading towards the bar. Patrick is surprised to see Jonny there, walking next to Seabs towards an empty table. His head is down low as he listens to whatever Seabs is saying, his voice probably muffled under the bass of the music playing.

It wouldn’t be his choice of music, not even close to 2000s hip hop, but Patrick bops his head up and down as Sharpy steers him towards the bar, saying, “You deserve a drink, c’mon.”

Patrick orders an extra beer for Vinnie as well, sliding it over to the kid who’s staring over at the dance floor. He thanks Patrick and leans against the counter.

“You’re not gonna dance?” Patrick speaks loudly into Vinnie’s ear.

Vinnie shrugs and continues staring over at the crowd of drunken partiers and that’s when Patrick spots Hartzy already dancing, a girl holding onto his arm as she seemingly giggles. The other kid works fast, he thinks, and then sees the way Vinnie is practically vibrating with jealousy and okay, this is not something he can deal with tonight.

“I’ll catch you later,” Patrick says but he doesn’t think Vinnie hears him. He moves away, back down the bar to where he left Sharpy.

“Hey, Peeks. We’re gonna go steal a table, you coming?” Sharpy throws an arm over his shoulders and without Patrick even agreeing, pulls him towards an empty booth.

Jonny’s gone from where Patrick last saw him, and Seabs is too. It causes Patrick’s face to fall and he slumps down into the booth, squishing between Sharpy and Saader, who slides in with a tray of beer and glasses.

They distribute them around the table and for a while it’s nice and easy, all of them talking about the game and praising everyone who scored. Patrick smiles when the guys talk about his shot and he would thank Vinnie for it, if the kid wasn’t hung up on the bar, looking sad.

At some point, the conversation drifts over the table to where Patrick can’t hear. He turns around to Saader instead but his eyes get caught behind his head, to where Jonny is standing, leaning casually on the back wall, drink in his hand.

Saader must follow his gaze because he says, “Must be hard seeing him every day.”

Patrick turns to look at him, his defensive side building up. “What would you know about it?” he asks sarcastically.

Saader lifts his hands up, shaking his head. “Nothing, man,” he laughs. “You guys were just so close when I left and I come back to the two of you not sharing more than three words at practice if it’s not to yell at each other.” He sounds confused, like he can’t really wrap his head around it and Patrick can confirm that he’s not the only one of their friends thinking that.

“Yeah, well,” Patrick mutters because he has nothing else to say. An awkward silence looms over them for a beat but then Sharpy’s pulling him back into the conversation happening around the table and Patrick can ignore the feeling of Saader’s eyes on him for the night.

*

They lose the second game against the Blue Jackets and it only stings so much because it’s back in Chicago, in front of another sold out crowd. It’s not a total blowout, but disappointing nonetheless.

Panarin gets a tribute video, because the fans here loved him and still do. Patrick skates over to him later, before the teams are shuffling off the ice, and fist bumps him, smiling and congratulating him on the win.

Even though it leaves Patrick in a good spirit, despite the loss, the energy of the locker room he walks into drains it away almost instantly. Jonny’s up in front if them, about to speak, and he waits for Patrick to take his seat.

Jonny goes over the game and promises that it was no one's fault, they did their best, this doesn’t reflect their entire season, and Patrick appreciates it. What he doesn’t appreciate is that Patrick experiences the worst case of _I really fucking miss you_ when Jonny sits back down, head in his hands, exhausted.

He shakes the feeling, moving to take off his jersey. It’s not something he wants to think about sober, but the quicker he changes, the quicker he can get a drink in his hand.

*

Patrick is bounding up the stairs before it even registers in his mind. The porch and everything’s the same, which is unsurprising considering the fact that Jonny is a professional hockey player who probably doesn’t have the time to redesign their garden during the three weeks that Patrick has been gone.

He wobbles over to the door and yeah, maybe the couple of drinks he made himself at Sharpy’s were not a smart idea. But then again, it was his alcohol that he purchased on his own, so Patrick’s pretty sure that’s allowed, or something.

He stands at the front door, refraining himself from moving to get their emergency key, knowing all too well where it’s hidden, even in his drunken state. He breathes in and musters up enough courage to knock on the door three times.

Jonny takes forever to answer and Patrick waits, patient, but as the time passes, he almost leans down to see if he can look through the keyhole. When Jonny finally does open the door, before Patrick follows through with his plan, he looks surprised to see Patrick there. He puts down whatever he was holding onto the table with the TJ Oshie vase, and stiffens, standing up straight.

Patrick knows his visit wasn’t expected and since they’re on okay terms rather than good ones, he figures he should have called first. “Hey.” He places a hand onto the doorframe to steady himself.

Jonny stares at him for a long moment. “Are you drunk?” he asks, face tight as though he’s expecting the answer already.

“Only a little.” Patrick mimes an inch with his fingers. “Can I come in?” He’s already moving forward and there’s a moment where Jonny doesn’t move and he’s about to walk into his tall body, but Jonny steps to the side.

Patrick walks the rest of the way in and if he does say so himself, intelligently finds his way to the living room. Jonny follows him, quietly and at a slower pace. “There’s no such thing as a little drunk with you, Pat.”

There might be a little humour in his tone, underneath the truth. Patrick chuckles. “True,” he agrees, a bitter grin on his face.

Jonny grimaces. “What do you want?”

“We should have a baby.”

Patrick might’ve expected a couple things: Jonny yelling at him to quit being an idiot or an asshole, or Jonny even being happy at the fact that Patrick’s come around. He’s not expecting Jonny’s face to stay neutral, like this is something that Patrick suggests to everyone he comes across.

“Say something,” Patrick mutters, crossing his arms at his chest. “Agree or kick me out, do something.”

Jonny’s face tightens up again. “No.”

“No?” Patrick repeats. “Fuck you.”

Jonny sighs. “You don’t get it, do you?” He stares at Patrick, one hand coming to rest on his hips, disappointed captain stance and all. “Just like it wasn’t about coming out for you, it wasn’t about having a kid for me.”

Patrick is lost again. Jonny must see the look on his face because he sighs again. He walks closer over to Patrick. “Jesus - I didn’t need a definite kid right now, Pat. I just wanted to talk about the possibility of it happening in the future, when we’re both ready for it. I just wanted to know it would be something you would eventually want,” he explains, “but now I can see that it’s not something you’re going to do willingly.

“But it is,” Patrick blurts out quickly and maybe his inhibitions are lowered just a little too much with the alcohol. “It wasn’t something I thought about before this all happened, I have to be honest, but it’s something I think about a lot now.” Jonny’s eyes widen. “I think about a future with you, with a fucking picket fence and a dog, and kids running around our yard. I think,” Patrick breathes out, “I know it’s something I’m gonna want with you. That I do want.”

Patrick’s forgotten how quiet their house was at night, so used to Maddie and Sadie playing in the living room until Abby shooed them off to bed. Patrick would follow and help, tucking each of them in after they request it, and he’d stand by the doorway as Sharpy said goodnight to his daughters as well. He’d think about how that could be him and Jonny and their two daughters and it would hit him as a shock, but now he knows it’s what he wants, what he’s missing from his life.

“Are you sure?” Jonny asks, voice timid, small.

Patrick moves closer to him, legs carrying him over the carpet until he reaches Jonny, is breathing the same air as him. “Yes,” he practically whispers, “fuck, Jonny, of course.”

Jonny’s entire face cracks, a huge smile taking over. He looks like he doesn’t know whether to touch Patrick so Patrick moves in for him. His hand comes up to Jonny’s neck, finding home on the nape of it and settling in. They’re both smiling brightly and Patrick has to stop it, has to be kissing Jonny, like, yesterday, so he leans in and does exactly that.

Jonny kisses him back, tries to hide his smile and fails. Patrick gets it; he’s too happy himself and it gets in the way but it’s okay because they eventually find a way to make it work.

Patrick deepens the kiss and Jonny follows suit, holding onto Patrick tightly, like he might slip away, his hand pressing against Patrick’s lower back. Patrick fits his other hand on Jonny’s waist, fingers intertwining with the belt loops on his jeans, and he moans into Jonny’s mouth.

Jonny’s the one who comes up first, pulling away as he breathes hard in Patrick’s ear, his hands coming around to roam Patrick’s body as Patrick sits there and takes it, feels great about it. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you like this,” Jonny says, voice happy and wrecked, “since the hallway, Pat, fuck.” His lips work to outline Patrick’s jawline and teeth scrape across the cut of his throat.

Patrick nods, understanding because yeah, he’s been there. “Why’d you walk away then?”

“It hurt too much. It wouldn’t have been fair,” Jonny answers and right now, Patrick doesn’t even want to think about what’s fair, just focuses on pushing Jonny away slightly.

“Bedroom,” Patrick says when Jonny looks confused. He seems to hop on the train quickly enough, nodding and stepping away enough to make room for Patrick.

Patrick makes sure to walk ahead, no matter how much he would rather be kissing Jonny, because they need to get there and not bump into several walls because their faces are too busy doing something else.

Their bedroom looks the exact same as Patrick left it, even with a couple of his clothes spilling out of the closet from his hasty exit a month ago. Only one side of the bed is made, and it figures that Jonny wouldn’t have made his bed this morning.

Patrick turns around and stops short. Jonny is working to get his shirt off, and then his socks, leaving his top half naked with only his sweats in place. When he’s done, he stares at Patrick and shoots him a pointed look.

“Right,” Patrick says and throws off his own shirt in one smooth move. He toes off his shoes and for a split second wonders how Jonny allowed him in with them on. He doesn’t get to ask because Jonny is crowding his space, wrapping an arm around Patrick’s back and pulling him against his own body to attach their lips together again.

Patrick shuffles backwards until his knees hit the mattress and he slowly sinks down, tugging Jonny easily to follow. Jonny straddles his thighs and Patrick secures his hands on Jonny’s hips to keep him in place, moaning when their crotches line up and he can feel the friction between them.

Jonny makes a noise but Patrick drowns it out, continuing to kiss into his mouth as they both grow harder against each other. He lifts a hand into Jonny’s hair, tugging ever so slightly, enough for Jonny to breathe hard into their kiss, letting out a little gasp that goes straight to Patrick’s dick.

“Fuck.” Patrick pulls his face back, his hand still roaming Jonny’s upper body, appreciating it in all its glory. He goes to shuffle further back onto the bed so it’s more comfortable, and they can be horizontal. “What do you want?” he asks Jonny when he can speak again.

Jonny is kissing down Patrick’s chest now, tongue peeking out to wet certain spots when he sees the way Patrick’s body shivers. He looks up and locks eyes with Patrick and it’s pure want, pure love in his eyes. “Can I blow you?” Jonny asks and Patrick would laugh. Like he would ever say no to that.

Jonny tugs on Patrick’s pants, popping the one button effortlessly and getting them around his ankles. Patrick kicks them off the rest of the way and settles back onto the bed, his knees bending slightly to get comfortable. Jonny bends over his from the side and after getting his own pants off, uses his mouth to trace over the line of Patrick’s briefs, wetting them just enough that Patrick is practically begging after a minute, breath heavy and hot as he just _needs._

“C’mon, Jonny,” Patrick breathes out after Jonny licks a strip across his hip, his hands feathering over his cock. He’s a fucking tease and knows it, knows he drives Patrick crazy when he does this and loves it.

Jonny smirks against his stomach, but moves to position himself better. He looks Patrick straight in the eyes as his hands pull Patrick’s underwear all the way down. Patrick has to break eye contact, throwing his head back as he groans, the cool air hitting his dick.

This time, Jonny doesn’t tease, just bends down to suck the head of Patrick’s dick, hands grabbing at his waist when Patrick starts moving around. Patrick moans, loudly, never one to be quiet in bed, and he looks down. Jonny’s head is bobbing lower and lower as he takes more of Patrick in his mouth, sinking deeper down and it’s one of the hottest fucking things Patrick has ever seen.

Patrick moans again, this time even louder and Jonny presses down with his thumbs into Patrick’s hip. He sucks Patrick off in the practiced, easy manner he knows from years of hooking up and dating, until Patrick is grunting, trying to keep his hips as steady as he can as he feels himself fall apart beneath Jonny.

Some of his come is swallowed by Jonny and some lands on his tongue after he pulls off Patrick’s cock. Patrick lays there, always paralyzed for a moment after an orgasm, and he opens his eyes to see Jonny right above him, face screwed up.

He’s jerking himself off, Patrick figures out, but he won’t allow it, tapping Jonny’s arm and gesturing for him to lie down. “Here,” he says, reaching down with his own hand to wrap it around the head of Jonny’s cock.

The more he strokes, the shallower and quicker Jonny’s breaths become, short puffs of air as he flickers his eyes shut. Patrick continues the pace and leans down, capturing Jonny’s lips in another kiss, which Jonny continuously breaks to gasp underneath him.

Patrick speeds up, loves to see the effect it has on Jonny, and loves how hot it is to see Jonny like this, so close, under him. It’s not long before Jonny is groaning, unevenly, and he’s coming all over Patrick’s hand and his chest, curling his back up.

After, Jonny falls back onto the bed and Patrick prays that the nearest material is not his shirt, as he wipes his hand. He throws it onto the floor and scoots up on the bed, flopping down next to Jonny, who’s staring at the ceiling in a daze.

“Missed you,” he mumbles, so low that Patrick can barely understand it. He turns his head to stare at the cut of Jonny’s throat, the way his chest is still lifting up and down quickly, breathless.

“I missed you too,” Patrick responds and it’s the truth, worth the way Jonny smiles, turning to kiss Patrick again, sweet and slow.

The kiss turns into a yawn for Patrick, because when he comes, he gets tired. Jonny is right behind him because it’s also pretty late so he reaches for the covers.

“Hold on,” Patrick says, getting up and walking to the bathroom. He grabs a towel, dampens it and then tosses it at Jonny’s chest.

Jonny cleans himself up, hair and stomach, from both of their come, and then throws that on the ground as well. Patrick lies back in bed, allowing Jonny to cuddle up to his back, despite there being no AC in their room. His eyes flicker shut and he drifts off into his easiest sleep of the past two months.

*

“Do you wanna start planning it?” Patrick asks the following morning. He and Jonny are sat around the kitchen table, mugs of coffee in hand and even though Jonny is on his second cup, Patrick is sure he’s still not one hundred percent awake.

“Hm?” Jonny stares blearily at him through the steam coming out of his mug. He places the coffee on the table. “Planning what?”

Patrick smirks. “Our wedding.”

And if Jonny wasn’t fully awake then, he is now. “Oh,” he says dumbly and Patrick almost laughs. “I mean - yeah. We could, uh, we could do that, no problem.”

Patrick grins, content. “Great.”

So they do. Jonny pulls out a couple of binders from their bedroom closet and a whole stack of magazines that Patrick remembers Jonny’s mother giving them when they first announced their engagement. It seems like forever ago and as Jonny sets them all down on their coffee table in the living room, Patrick can’t help but think back on the last two years. How they went from so happy, to not so much, to having no contact at all, and back to where they were meant to be.

Patrick’s glad it’s all over, glad he can just spend his time focusing on Jonny instead of worrying about the future. He knows he has something good going here and everyone he knows would agree in an instant.

However, Patrick must’ve been quiet for too long because Jonny's starting to look a bit wary again and he puts down the papers he was holding to grab Patrick's hand. "Hey," he says and Patrick looks up. "We don't have to do this now."

And maybe months ago, Patrick would have agreed, said "you're right" and moved on to distract himself with something he knows and is familiar with. Right now though - right now it's different and he doesn't feel like that; he feels good about this and instead of relief, he feels guilt for putting that look on Jonny's face again. "No, I want to," Patrick says, cracking a smile.

He stares as Jonny's face turns happy once more and then Jonny is leaning forward too quickly, smashing their mouths together. They're both smiling and at awkward angles so it's a bit hard to maneuver, but they make it work and Patrick couldn't find a more perfect moment.

He leans back and Jonny reattaches himself to his notes, picking up a catalogue for flower arrangements, a content and blissful look on his face. He hands Patrick his own magazine, one filled with hundred of tuxes, all pretty much looking the same and it's extremely overwhelming but for the first time since Patrick proposed, he’s not scared one bit.

**Author's Note:**

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